


Cages

by Multifandom_damnation



Category: Titans (TV 2018)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Animal Instincts, Animal Transformation, Cages, Drinking & Talking, Gen, Homesickness, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Past Torture, Post-Episode: s01e07 The Asylum, Self-Worth Issues, Separation Anxiety
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-20
Updated: 2019-05-20
Packaged: 2020-03-08 09:23:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18891742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Multifandom_damnation/pseuds/Multifandom_damnation
Summary: The asylum wasn’t kind to anyone, Garfield least of all.Despite everything, despite him working through the endless nights of repetitive nightmares and fighting back the bile that rose in his throat every time he thought about what happened at the asylum, no matter what he did, he couldn’t work past the cage.Garfield didn’t like cages. He didn’t like them before and defiantly didn’t like them after the asylum.





	Cages

**Author's Note:**

> Listen, it's no secret that episode 7 is my favourite from the series and I love seeing my favourite characters hurt, so here's this steaming pile of shit. I have another fic coming soon that describes in more detail some of the things I talked about in this, but I hope you enjoyed it anyway. Let me know what you thought x

The asylum wasn’t kind to anyone, Garfield least of all.

When he had left that horrible place, limping and bleeding and shaking to the car, something irreparable had changed within him, something blistered and cracked and darkened.

Some nights he would wake with a scream on his lips and the roar of a tiger in his throat, blood bright behind his eyes and the static feeling of electricity crackling across his skin. Some days, he could still feel the way the metal manacles wrapped around his wrists, the feeling of the cool metal bars behind his back, the sharp tang of blood coating his mouth and chin. Sometimes looking in the mirror felt like looking at a warped show-room reflection- his skin had never been so pale, his smile had never been so fake, his eyes had never been so dull. Even on his skin, faint burn marks littered the expanse like fireworks for someone who had nothing to celebrate.

He had felt different since he had escorted Rachel and her mother out of that asylum, withering to a crumbling heap with all the people and paperwork and experiments left to burn along with the bricks and mortar. For one, he hadn’t felt any kind of remorse at leaving those people to die. Larry would have said that he was justified. Cliff would have changed the subject. Rita…

They had wanted the tiger. His tiger. The thing inside him that was both a valiant protector and nothing but a nuance, but after living most of his life with the deep rumbling of the beast within his chest, there was no way in hell that Garfield would ever give it up.

Of course, he had obviously noticed the sideways glances Kory would shoot him when she thought he wasn’t looking, noticed the way Dick watched his every move from across the room like he was looking for something specific and definitely noticed the way Rachel hovered at his shoulder, waiting at his every beck and call for something that would never come. He wanted to say he didn’t understand it, but he did.

He hated that he seemed to be the only one affected by his time spent in the asylum. Dick had been drugged up to his ears with unknown substances and forced to relive his most traumatic memories, yet the only lasting effect he seemed to experience was the withdrawal from the cocktail when they finally left his system. Rachel killed that man and didn’t even break a sweat, only made sure that the job was done and continued on with the mission. Kory, despite being cut open by medical examiners and strapped to a table with a tube down her throat, only occasionally rubbed at the long scar on her abdomen and gripped at the finger that was nearly cut it off her hand.

But Garfield… the asylum had ruined him, inside and out, and he wasn't entirely sure that even his tiger was spared.

When he blinked, he still saw the bloodied image of the man he had ripped to shreds and mauled against the bars of his cage, still tasted the copper-iron sting of blood on his tongue, could still feel the muscle and sinew stuck between his fangs, could still hear his own words echoing in his ears, pitiful and weak and broken. _“I bit him.”_

There are some shameful moments where he had caught himself staring at his reflection in the mirror, watching the thick globules of blood dribble from his lips and slick down his chin in sticky strands to land ungracefully against his jacket, and he chided himself every time for it. There was no blood. There was nothing to be wary of. There was no dead body in a lab coat carrying an electrified poker following him around every corner. He was being ridiculous.

Despite everything, despite him working through the endless nights of repetitive nightmares and fighting back the bile that rose in his throat every time he thought about what happened at the asylum, no matter what he did, he couldn’t work past the cage.

He couldn’t get over the fact that they had locked him up and chained him to the metal bars of the prison like he was nothing but a wild animal, and maybe they had done that to elicit the reaction from the tiger that they wanted, but Garfield refused to give it to them. He wouldn’t give them the satisfaction. So instead, he hung, naked, as they sent shocking bursts of electricity shooting through his already screaming body in an attempt to find the tiger inside.

Garfield didn’t like cages. He didn’t like them before and defiantly didn’t like them after the asylum.

So what Dick was asking him to do… it was almost too out of this world for Garfield to even fully comprehend. “It’ll be fine, Gar,” Dick was saying, voice smooth and strong and his hand on Garfield’s shoulder was grounding. “We’ll be right here, watching everything that happens. I know you don’t want to do it, but if we don’t use someone as bait, we’re not going to be able to catch him. And we know he’s had his eye on you for a while. The door won’t even be locked, so if you really don’t think you can do this, you can walk straight out and we’ll figure out another plan.”

Gulping past the thick lump in his throat, he glanced over at the cage, the metal bars glinting at him from the overhead lights almost as though they were trying to wink enticingly at him, as much as metal bars were able. “I don’t like cages,” he whispered again and he felt more than heard Dick holding back a sigh. Quickly, he added, “Will I… will I be able to see you?”

Dick didn’t answer right away, just patted Garfield on the shoulder. “We’ll be right here,” he said again, which didn’t answer his question. Taking off his jacket, Garfield handed it to Dick, who smiled reassuringly at him before exiting the room, leaving him to make his own way into the cage, sure that he would go through with it.

Reluctantly, Garfield inched towards the cage and closed the door shut behind him, the loud clanking of the latch sliding home ringing in the emptiness of the warehouse, and he settled back against the bars as he had done so long ago, and he waited.

He knew they would be talking about him in the other room where he couldn’t see or hear them. Knew they were talking about how weak he was. How scared. How useless. How he was better off staying with Rita and Cliff and Larry and the Chief back in the mansion that had been his home for so long. Maybe they were thinking about sending him on his way when all of this bullshit was finished?

Somehow, Garfield felt some selfish part of him, some small part that he couldn’t ignore or burn away no matter how much he tried, wanted desperately for them to get sick of him and send him back home so he could run into the welcoming embrace of Rita, the warm smells of Larry’s cooking, Cliff’s sarcastic remarks and grumpy attitude to his very existence. He missed them all. He really did.

Regardless of everything within him rebelling against the very idea of being in captivity for one more moment, Garfield waited silently. He waited even when the tiger clawed at his insides and snapped his teeth at his heart, making pain burst behind his eyes and his breathing come in pants. It’s fear and anger and apprehension began to bleed into Garfield himself and for a moment he couldn’t help but wonder what the fuck he had agreed to.

But every time he felt his eyes blur and his heart tighten and holes being poked in his lungs, there was an invisible hand stroking down his face and calming him down from the brink of panic, and he felt the touch of Rachel’s powers relaxing him from the other room, familiar and comforting and not at all unwanted.

Garfield felt panic begin to consume him, drowning him in fears and burying him in the rubble of his demolished confidence, and each time he felt that panic begin to overwhelm him, he thought of Rita and her bright smile, the way she would prance around the room as she recounted tales of her acting days and all the men she had loved and lost. He thought of Cliff with his cars in the attic and his strong body made of metal that could keep his tiger occupied no matter how rough the beast wanted to play. He thought of Larry, and the stories he would tell about being in space and the Spirit residing inside his chest and the nameless man he had loved so, so long ago but had to let go for the sake of both their sanities.

He even thought of Chief and all the times he would forgive Garfield for being rude and would praise him and pat his head and look after him when he was so sick his body would lock up, and sure, maybe the tiger would growl and roil whenever the Chief came near with another one of his experimental drugs meant to help Garfield advance, but the tiger was just being overprotective- the Chief would never hurt him on purpose.

The waiting was painful, the unceasing expectation was making the tiger agitated and Garfield felt like he could feel it pacing across his abdomen. There was a voice in his head, a thick feeling in his gut telling him to _run, run away, get out of the cage and run away,_ but every time he felt the panic begin to get too much, he remembered Dick’s words, and he stayed where he was.

It had happened so fast. He hadn’t even been able to raise his head before the door was swinging open and a man clad in dark colours and a trench coat, a gun slung over his shoulder and a net in his hands, pushed his way into the cage and before he knew it, the tiger was forcing its way out of Garfield’s skin, his body morphing and bones cracking to accommodate the new body, but before he was even fully formed, flames enveloped them and the man was pulled backwards out of the cage.

Fur began to sprout from his skin but as the tiger roared in fury, Garfield felt consumed with fear. He was nearly captured and shot and taken by a man he had never met, all because he was stuck in a fucking _cage._

He could hear Dick shouting. Kory was swearing, her voice filled with fiery rage but he could hardly hear them over the roaring of the tiger in his ears, and Garfield felt himself falling asleep as he did every time the tiger commanded total control but he feared that another man would die and he would awaken with blood in his teeth, so he fought the tiger’s demands.

But then Rachel was there, running her hands through his green fur, whispering kind words and gentle comments into his ear, and slowly, ever so slowly, the tiger stopped trying to force his way through Garfield’s defences and calmed slightly. “Don’t kill him, Gar,” Rachel was saying, but Garfield could only hear her like he was underwater. “It’s alright, we’ve got him. You’re fine. Kory and Dick are going to take care of him. Just stay here with me, and everything will be fine.”

It was only when the sounds of fighting outside had ceased and the others had crowded around the mouth of the cage that the tiger finally calmed completely and his bones reformed and his skin changed and the fangs receded back into his lips and with a gasp a very naked Garfield fell back against the bars again. Dick threw him a change of clothes and he had barely pulled them over his body before he was pushing past Dick and Kory in an attempt to get _out of the fucking cage._

Panting, Garfield ran to the other side of the warehouse with his hands tight in his hair and his lungs working like had had just run a marathon. The tiger was quiet, apparently pleased to be out of the cage. He could hear the others talking about him and Kory was calling his name, but Garfield was much too busy trying to keep his breathing even and blinking the black spots out of his vision.

For a little while, they left him alone to breathe, but then Rachel was there, a hand on his shoulder. “Gar,” she said, almost a perfect reflection of what she had said so long ago in the asylum. “It’s time to go.”

He turned to her, wiping away the tears that he hadn’t even realised he’d shed, and his eyes scanned Dick and Kory and Rachel, all watching him with pursed lips and worried eyes. “Don’t,” he hated how his voice shook. “Don’t make me do that again. Never make me do that again.”

Dick nodded. “We won’t,” he said but Rachel looked at him strangely, and the tiger growled at his lie. “I promise.”

Later, as Kory handed him a nice warm mug of hot chocolate while she herself had a bottle of tequila in her free hand, she tentatively broached the subject. “You reacted more to being in that cage then I would have thought.”

Garfield could do nothing but shrug. “I don’t like cages. _We_ don’t.” He amended. “Can you blame us?”

“The door wasn’t locked,” Kory continued like Garfield hadn’t spoken and he felt the tiger bristle at that. “You could have walked out at any time. You knew that we were right there the whole time. Yet Rachel said you panicked the entire time you were in there. What was that all about?”

“I’m allowed to not like something,” Garfield defended. “I don’t have to be happy with everything you make me do.”

Kory sat heavily down on the couch and took a swig from her half-empty bottle. Garfield held his hot-chocolate between his fingers, just enjoying the heat seeping into his skin. “I get that,” Kory said. “I just don’t get while you were so scared. It’s not like you were in any danger. We would have called it off before we let it get that far.”

“Well, I’m sorry, but the last time I was in a cage I was hung naked from the top of it and electrocuted until I roared and green fur sprouted on my body,” Garfield snapped and he couldn’t find it within himself to feel bad about the way Kory flinched back. “And even if I was fine with it, the tiger didn’t like it, and I feel what it feels. And-” he continued, scowling, “I would like to think that I was in plenty of danger when the poacher walked into the cage with a gun and a net.”

“But we were there,” Kory argued. “We were going to take care of him and we did. You transformed for no reason.”

Scoffing, Garfield turned away from Kory. “You really think I have control over it? It has a mind on of its own, it’s own thoughts and feelings and wants. It felt threatened, so it reacted. What else do you expect from a wild animal?” He hid his face behind the cup and the steam obscured his features. “The others would understand. They wouldn’t even bother to ask.”

Obviously having given up with the whole conversation, Kory patted him on the shoulder, stood, and left the room with her bottle of tequila to her lips.

Rita would understand. Cliff would understand. Larry would understand. Chief would understand.

Garfield really, really despised cages and his tiger hated them more. 


End file.
